Chapter 3

Greetings from the Witch

Alistair looked better than August originally thought. Sure he looked like he hadn't slept in several days with dark bags under his slightly bloodshot eyes. August didn't blame him, considering in three days he had lost all of his comrades in arms and was locked up in the aftermath. Some of the tiredness faded when he saw his fellow Warden but it was barely noticeable.

August looked the elder Warden over with a critical eye. "You look terrible."

Alistair blinked, and allowed a slightly strangled chuckle. "You don't look so good yourself."

The two men shared a smile and clasped each other's forearms in greeting. August allowing a lopsided grin and a deep throaty chuckle. The two of them barely knew each other little more than half a week, yet in their waking hours together they had shared in enough adventure to last most gentle folk a lifetime. August was still of divided opinion on Duncan, but he had no doubts as to the character of the man standing before him.

"Hungry?" He asked at last.

"Famished." Alistair replied.

They entered his brothers tent, where food and drink had been prepared for them. The servants had scoured the length and breadth of Highever camp for whatever scraps they could find and it all came together to create a more than adequate feast. August saw platters of cheese, fruit, vegetables, chunks of meat and jugs full of Ale.

"Snazzy place." Alistair remarked, looking around, mildly uncomfortable.

"My brother's tent." August replied as he marched over to the table, already filling his plate with the assortment of foods. He had barely eaten a few hours ago and yet he was already starving. A meeting with a walking monolith like Teyrn Loghain could do that to a person he supposed. Alistair walked over awkwardly, his own stomach quietly letting him know of his hunger. He piled his own plate high and took the seat across from August.

"That's right. I keep forgetting that you're a Cousland." the young man remarked, grabbing a large piece of pork and stuffing it fully into his mouth. "Where is your brother?"

"Missing in the Wilds."

He stopped chewing, eyes widening slightly. "Oh."

"We've got people looking for him," August tried to sound sure and confident, but it came to his ears as hollow words. He knew that the chances of Fergus coming out of that hell of a swamp alive was growing slimmer by the hour and it had been at least four days since he went missing. "If anyone can survive a Blight it's my brother."

He grabbed an apple and bit down, an explosion of wet sweetness throwing him from his morose thoughts. "So how did you get me out?"

"I did what any decent Noble did. I took part in fruitful negotiations with my opponent, adding in a healthy amount of threats and compromise. It seemed to do the trick." August replied, looking Alistair over. "They didn't do anything to you did they?"

Alistair shook his head, "They piled a lot of questions and taunts on me, and Loghain himself came down to ask the important ones in person. I can't believe what they're trying to do. Blame Duncan and the Wardens for King Cailan's death, as if they enthralled him to lead the diversion against his will. There was even talk that Duncan was a traitor and in league with the Orlesians. Maker help me what a load of shit."

"Yeah, I told Loghain that... in more elegant wording though." August said, stabbing another slice of pork with his knife and biting into it. The meat was cold but it was far from inedible. "I suppose I should get you appraised on what is happening."

Alistair just looked tired and haggard, but he leaned back in his chair and looked August right in the eye. "Go ahead."

"Well most of this is speculation, based on my own opinions and my meeting with Loghain," August began, grabbing a jug of Ale and pouring the amber liquid into his tankard until it was almost full to the brim. He had a feeling he was going to need quite a bit of this tonight. "I believe Loghain's original plan was to use us and the Wardens as scapegoats, at least temporarily, to try and boost the morale of the army."

"That sounds like the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Alistair growled, but upon seeing August's glare he threw up his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean your idea, in fact I can see Loghain doing it, but I don't see why he needs a scapegoat. Cailan died in a battle he volunteered for."

"Which is why it won't hold, however think of it this way. The armies courage hangs on the edge of a knife. The death of their King has hit them just as hard as the victory over the Darkspawn has boosted them. Loghain is trying to turn this around by giving them someone to target, turning their fear into anger, something that was hastily decided and he is now regretting."

It was true, a lot of soldiers, especially those who fought in the King's diversionary force and those in the tower will know it to be false. They had seen the Grey Wardens fight as ferociously as anyone else on the field against the enemies of Ferelden. Loghain had made a mistake, and he knew it. It would explain why the meeting had been so fast and had ended so well for their side. The Teyrn would never openly admit it or apologise for it, and he would try and keep the farce of an investigation going for a while to save face but overall August suspected they wouldn't hear much more of it.

"I managed to convince him that it would be a better idea to keep the Grey Wardens on as an ally than try and vilify us as the enemy. It took a little convincing, but with you and me sitting here I think it was a success." August continued. "In return for him allowing you into my custody-"

"Custody?" Alistair almost choked on his pork, but was stopped from arguing by August's raised hand.

"Yes, for now custody. In return for that, as well as returning all of the documents and equipment from the Grey Warden camp into Grey Warden hands and exonerating us from any charges I had to show him the treaties we picked up in the Wilds. Don't give me that look Alistair. You knew that we would be using them to call up allies against the Blight eventually."

"I did, but to help him!"

"To help Ferelden," August countered, and the elder Warden winced. He certainly wasn't the type of man you could trust in negotiations or even gambling. "We may not like him but Teyrn Loghain is the best military commander Ferelden has and there is no one else good enough to replace him. He is skilled, experienced and has too much influence to be replaced by a couple of junior Wardens. In order to save this country and stop the Blight we will need him and we will need his army. He will keep the Darkspawn occupied here at Ostagar while you and me use the treaties to muster the Mages, Elves and Dwarves."

"But you can't expect me to trust him. Not after what he said, not after what he did!" Alistair asked in very real outrage.

"I don't, because I don't trust him either." August replied, eyes hard as iron. "But we have little choice right now. We are two junior Wardens with the nearest Grey Warden outpost hundreds of miles away. The only things keeping us from being locked up for conveniences sake is my family name and these treaties. If we want to continue and not end up in Fort Draken we're going to need to prove that we can be useful against the Blight."

Alistair opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked down at the table, tired and defeated, and in angry retribution he used his knife to skewer a piece of port and toss it into his mouth, chewing viciously. August sighed, grabbing his tankard and downing the Ale with several deep gulps. He gasped for air when he finished, slammed the tankard onto the table and refilled it. Silence descended as the Wardens ate voraciously, taking out their anger and irritation on the food.

"By the way," August ground out, his mouth full as he downed another huge gulp of air. "You have some explaining to do."

"For what?" Alistair asked, shovelling crackers slathered with cheese into his mouth.

"About the Grey Wardens." August answered. "I know we're supposed to be some kind of non-dispensable weapon against the Darkspawn and the Blight but for the Maker's sake I have no idea why or how. What powers do we gain from that ritual? What are the side-effects? How can a Grey Warden be the only one to slay an Archdemon? How in the name of the Black City can you slay an Archdemon!?"

"I can answer the first. I can answer the second... but I can't answer the third or fourth." Alistair replied, allowing a nervous smile caked with food crumbs. "Sorry."

"I knew it." August grunted under his breath. Finishing off a scone. Hungry, even starving didn't come close to how he was feeling at this moment, no ravenous sounded more truthful. "So you haven't been a Warden for longer than a year either huh?"

"More or less," Alistair shrugged.

"So what can you tell me?" August asked.

"Well we can sense Darkspawn." The former Templar-Recruit began.

"That makes sense, I suppose." August allowed.

"Yeah we can sense Darkspawn and they can sense us. I think it has something to do with us managing to survive the joining. They are a part of us now as we are of them." Alistair hesitated, seeing the borderline horrified expression on the Cousland boys face at the news. August had expected to hear a bad truth or two, and he supposed when thinking rationally what Alistair said was to be expected. It didn't help how he was feeling at this moment though.

Then there was the by far more horrifying theory in his mind. "Oh Maker preserve us."

"It's not so bad." Alistair tried to placate.

"Think about it for a minute Alistair. You said it yourself that we can sense the Darkspawn but chances are they can sense us as well. It works both ways." If Darkspawn can sense Wardens as well, at least within close proximity then they would swarm to that location, especially when the odds went against them. When losing a battle against a merciless foe it was better to take as many important enemies with you as you could.

For a moment the other Warden looked own, frowning, then it hit him. It hit him like a battering ram. "Oh Maker."

"I think it's a safe bet that we're going to need to be more careful when dealing with Darkspawn, wouldn't you agree?" August asked, and Alistair agreed with a nod. "So what else can you tell me?"

"Don't expect to get a good night's sleep from now on," Alistair continued, now suitably sobered. "Nightmares are a side effect of the joining, but at the same time they aren't just nightmares. We're now able to see the Fade as it really is, or we're dreaming alongside the Darkspawn and the Archdemon. It's how we know that this is a Blight."

August groaned inwardly, and here he was hoping that the nightmares of demonic fire breathing dragons and jabbering Darkspawn was just the aftermath of the battle, and the near death experience that followed. It turned out that the truth was worse. "Can it ever be controlled?"

"Some of the older Wardens said that they can. Given enough time and experience you can learn to block the visions out... other's go the opposite way and can tell you that they can hear what the Archdemon is thinking when they dream." Alistair explained. So if he lived long enough he'll learn to block them out, August would definitely be the type of Warden to prefer the former from the latter.

Still there was some humour in his memories from the Fade. August allowed a sardonic smile, "He obviously wasn't very happy that we thrashed his army."

"Glad to see we're off the same opinion." Alistair agreed. "And what else... of yeah. We're needed to stop the Blight."

"How?" he asked.

"Don't know," he replied, seeing the Cousland's eyes narrowing in response he placed his hands up in a sign of peace. "I'm being truthful there. I'm literally telling you everything I know, which isn't much. Duncan said that there was a lot of information withheld from Warden recruits until after they've survived their first year."

Just as Duncan had told him soon before the joining, "What else?"

"We have huge appetites," Alistair continued, grabbing a chicken leg and taking a bite, maybe for extra emphasis. "The joining speeds up our metabolism. We are faster, stronger and more durable than regular humans, but the turnaround is that we have to eat more than they do to keep going, maybe three times more... alcohol doesn't affect us nearly as bad either, though we can still get drunk."

August looked dubiously at his empty fifth tankard of Ale. Now that explained a lot. He didn't feel nearly as inebriated as he would have liked, maybe Dwarven Ale would do the trick. He had heard it was stronger than most human brews. So the joining allowed them to sense Darkspawn, but it was a double-edged sword. It gave them nightmares, made them look like drunks and gluttons and in exchange they were stronger, faster and more durable than your run-of-the-mill soldier.

Still looking at Alistair August could tell that he wasn't finished, and to tell the truth the young Cousland was really considering not wanting to know the rest. His stupid sense of knowledge seeking won through though. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah, don't expect to live a long life or to die of natural causes."

"You just save the best for last don't you?" August asked with more than a hint of sarcasm, massaging his temple. "Let me guess the joining isn't a cure?"

"You're right about that. The joining doesn't cure you of the taint, but it does slow it down. The usually life expectancy of a Grey Warden is about thirty years if you're not horrifically dismembered. After that you go through an event known as the calling, and go down into the Deep Roads for a final battle against the Darkspawn. You kill as many as you can before they kill you."

If he didn't want to harm Duncan before he was sorely wishing he could now. It would have been nice for the arrogant Ferelden born Orlesian bastard to at least inform him of the risks and side effects involved in becoming a Grey Warden. They had been travelling for a week together you would think they would have talked about it, especially considering the man's determination to make him into a Grey Warden.

Calm down, he had thirty years and if he had stayed in the Castle the chances of him living that long would have been very, very, very slim. That was something he supposed, thirty years meant that he would at least reach fifty before he died.

"Don't expect to have children either."

It took a moment for that particular bit of information to sink in. "Pardon?"

Alistair hadn't seen the storm brewing in his dark eyes yet, so the poor gullible fool just continued digging his own grave. "Grey Wardens having children is considered rare. It's not unheard off mind but few people sire children once they become... a Grey... Warden."

The glare August was throwing his way hit him with all the force of a bashing shield. August glared, deciding that instead of hurting Duncan he would bring him back to life and then kill him again with his bare hands. He suddenly wished even more for his brother to be alive and well out in the Wilds, considering with his own chances of siring an heir for House Cousland dead it was all up to him. He and Fergus were the last known survivors of the family, and little Oren was dead in Castle Highever. If both died childless their bloodline would be as dead as the Theirin's. It wasn't a sure thing mind, Alistair said it wasn't unheard of for Wardens to have children but he still didn't like his chances.

He shouldn't take his anger out on Alistair either, so with several deep breathes to calm himself down he plastered a smile on his face and downed the rest of his Ale. He didn't bother pouring it into his tankard this time, but took the half full jug and downed it with several deep gulps.

"August, are you alright?" Alistair asked, frowning and worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, keeping his fake smile in place. "It's just a surprise is all."

He wasn't convinced, but August was suddenly too tired and too sore to answer anymore of his questions but with a couple of words. He just wanted to eat his fill, which was probably everything on this table, crawl into his cot and close his eyes. Who knows, maybe when he woke up he would be in Highever Castle and all of this was nothing more than a bad dream.

He knew that wasn't possible, but it was nice to dream.

He was shaken awake from his thoughts by Alistair, who raised his own voice a few decibels to be heard. He looked over at his fellow Grey Warden, blinking. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"No, I'm not but I'll manage." August replied, rising from his seat. "Get some rest Alistair. You look like you could use it. Once your awake I'll see about gathering the bodies of the Wardens together and we'll give them a proper burial."

Mention of his departed comrades made Alistair more pliable to his requests, and it wasn't long before he did turn in for the day leaving August alone with his thoughts, for which he was grateful. It was late in the afternoon, and he had a lot on his mind, both from his recent escapades with the Teyrn and the hard truths Alistair had told him about.

After a long moment of silent thought, and what was left of the Ale he called in one of the servants and asked for more wine. Mother would berate him, he knew, if she were still alive. Your issues cannot be mended by looking at the bottom of a recently emptied tankard, but his mother wasn't here and by the Maker he needed to try and forget that painful fact.

"My Lord August!"

August awoke with a pounding headache, immediately regretting his consumption of alcohol the night before and looked to the entrance of his tent with bleary, slightly bloodshot eyes. It was one of the men-at-arms, he remembered that his name was Gerard. "Yes."

"Someone has asked for your presence milord," Gerard said, frowning. "A woman came from the Wilds and asked for you by name."

A woman from the Wilds? That could mean either one of two women, and he doubted it was the elder one. "What did she look like? Good looking but slightly underdressed?"

"Well, yes milord." The guard nodded his head.

Damn, so it was Morrigan. He really didn't have the patience to the condescending snarky attitude of a Witch of the Wilds. Then again she had helped them find the treaties which were so important in their negotiations with Loghain, and she had let them leave alive from her mother's hut. He owed her enough to hear what she had to say. He got out of his cot, splashed some cold water on his face and got dressed in his leather armour. Alistair was still sound asleep in his cot, brought in by servants before his arrival, and August didn't have the heart to wake him.

Gerard led the way for him, out of the Highever camp and through the Ostagar fortress, across the bridge and past the Tower of Ishal to the front entrance and the deeply used dirt track. There she was, standing a little away from a couple of guards and eyeing them carefully, as if they would turn on her at a moment's notice. Morrigan was still a beautiful creature, with her short dark hair, unnatural amber eyes and pretty features. The clothes she wore, if they could be called that, didn't leave much to the imagination and more than one guard kept a closer eye on her than was comfortable.

"Lady Morrigan," he greeted, nodding to her.

She looked over to him, a small smirk growing. "Ah, Tis good to see you alive and well."

"As it is to see you." August replied. "What brings you here to Ostagar?"

"Mother sent me, delivering a message which would be of great boon to you." the Witch replied. "We have found a man, lost, wounded and alone in the Wilds. He managed to inform us that he was a Cousland before he lost consciousness. Mother is tending to him as we speak and asked me to inform you."

His breath caught in his throat at the news. Fergus, they must have found his brother. There was no one else here who could boast to being a Cousland. It had to be him. "I see, and would he be with your mother now?"

Morrigan nodded, that infamous smirk and mischievous glimmer still very much in place, "Tis correct yes. I have been sent here to take you to him."

Fergus was alive. The first piece of good news he had heard since coming here to Ostagar. His brother was alive, Fergus was alive. "This is good news indeed, I thank you milady Morrigan for you and your mothers help in finding my brother. If I may ask how bad are his injuries?"

"He is unconscious for the most part, predictable considering his wounds but mother is certain he will pull through." She answered, more than a little surprised at his praise in her and her mother. "I did very little, mother was the one who found and preserved him."

"I thank you all the same, milady." August continued, meaning every word. It was the best news he could hope to hear. "If you would give me a moment. I need to assemble some men and perhaps a cart to help transport him. He needs to be returned to Ostagar and into our care."

Morrigan nodded, "Mother advised you would ask this. Do what you must, I will wait here."

It didn't take long to assemble a half dozen men-at-arms, a cart and a donkey to carry it to the gates and with Morrigan as their guide they entered the Wilds. The men marched in two by three, armour shining, swords in their sheathes, halberds and shields in their hands as they followed him who followed Morrigan, the cart protected in the middle of the column.

The Witch didn't lead them through the well used dirt paths, but took them through the rocky route into the Wilds. Darkspawn bands were still battling with the armies skirmishers so August didn't see much issue with being covert. They only encountered a small band of half a dozen of them on the route, spread out and unawares, easily surprised and just as easily killed by him and his party.

Soon they came to the hut of the Witch of the Wilds, the legendary sorceress known as Flemeth. She was waiting for them when they arrived, and just like last time she didn't look like a powerful Mage but an eccentric old woman, living in the wilderness to escape civilisation and to protect herself and her daughter.

"Ah greeting Grey Warden, so good of you to come and to come so quickly." the old woman crooned, looking to her daughter as she led them across the land bridge separating two puddles of water. Yes her hut was well protected August saw, last time he was too impatient in getting the treaties and getting back to camp but now that he was back and not in such a hurry he could see why she had made her home here.

The hut was built against a large curving hill, concealing it on at least three sides and on the other side it was protected by a small lake with a very slim bridge of earth separating it from the rest of the Wilds. An easy place to protect for someone whose powers were as legendary as Flemeth's if one did not take into account her own ability to use magic as a means of stealth and concealment.

Unless someone was looking for her she would not be found.

"Greetings milady," August returned, bowing his head. "I hear you and your daughter have done my family a great service, finding and caring for my brother."

"Yes, your brother is within my hut and recovering from his wounds."

"May I see him?"

"You may."

He entered the hut without any further preamble and found his brother lying in a cot at the back, upon seeing him be breathed a sigh of relief. Yes it was his brother, he would recognise Fergus even if they shaved his head bald and tried to pass him off as a barbarian of the Wilds. He laid in the cot asleep and unmoving, a bandage wrapped tightly around his head but whatever other injuries he had were hidden by the blanket which covered him.

Morrigan entered after a few moments, and upon seeing his worried expression smirked. "He is still unconscious, when mother found him he had taken a bad knock to the head. With time and will on his part he should recover."

He breathed another shaky sigh, a bit of hope returning to him, which now seemed foreign after what he had been through. He owed Morrigan and her mother much for this service. "Thank you."

His thanks surprised her yet again, as if she expected no thanks or gratitude for aiding in saving his brother's life. "You are welcome, I suppose."

"Is it safe to move him?" August asked.

"Mother says it is." Morrigan replied. "He is out of any real danger. Tis now up to him and him alone."

"Then we have nothing to worry about," He replied with a chuckle. "When Fergus faces a challenge he usually triumphs over it."

His assembled men managed to carry him from the hut onto the cart, carefully and with great concern. It wasn't long before his brother was resting at least semi-comfortably on the straw of the cart and August already considered calling upon the services of the Mages in Ostagar to help with his recovery. If it was Gwyneth or her mentor Wynne then all the better. He knew Gwyneth and she spoke highly of Wynne's ability.

"Warden, a word with you if I may." Flemeth asked, walking away from his men and the hut. August hesitated, frowning at her retreating back before following. It wasn't long before they were on a patch of marshland, away from the hut and his troops. It was just him and the fabled Flemeth of the Wilds. More than a little intimidating he would admit.

"How might I help you, milady?"

"You are going to fight this Blight, use the treaties and assemble an army to stop it." Flemeth asked, eyes intense and stoic as they watched him. August felt like a child before a calculating parent, a parent who didn't have much patience for a reply. "Speak up boy."

"I am." August replied, a little testily. The woman may have aided him by protecting the treaties and saving his brother's life but he wouldn't go as far to say that he trusted her. Quite the opposite. He had heard the stories surrounding Flemeth, the immortal Witch of the Wilds and knew that everything she did usually had some kind of benefit for her. The end of the Blight, so close to her doorstep, was the most obvious boon. "Everyone needs to stand united against the Blight. I shall go to the Mages, the Elves and the Dwarves. The Teyrn of Gwaren knows of my plans, and supports them."

"Ah yes, the much boasted Hero of the River Dane." Flemeth laughed. "I remember meeting him once before, such an obstinate, rude and humourless fellow. Tell me has he changed at all since the rebellion?"

So Flemeth had met Loghain before, interesting. "Well I would agree that he lacks a sense of humour."

"Among other things," Flemeth allowed, smiling herself when she saw a hint of sarcasm within the young man. "A word of the wise young Warden, watch yourself around that man. He only has one great love, and it isn't a creature of flesh and blood. To protect what he holds dear he will not hesitate to sacrifice anything, even himself."

He knew this already, with his half hearted attempt to remove them from the fold after the battle. "I will take your words to heart, madam."

"Good, but I have another request," the elderly woman continued. "I would like you to take my daughter along with you."

A moment of silence, he blinked. "Huh?"

"Not the sharpest tool, are you boy?" Flemeth asked with a raised brow.

He scowled, "Why would you want me to take your daughter?"

"I didn't think you to be so picky, after all Grey Wardens take help wherever they can find it, especially during a Blight. Has that changed since the last time I ventured from this place?" She asked, a hint of condescension in her voice.

"That's not what I meant," August countered with a wave of his hand. "This isn't going to be some calm little sojourn to new lands. This is going to be dangerous."

"Hah," the woman crooned. "My little Morrigan isn't some helpless little court Lady or an isolated Tower Mage. She is a talented Mage capable of ancient and powerful Magic. She is more than capable of looking after herself young Warden, and even with that victory over the Darkspawn you will need all the help you can get."

He couldn't argue with that. If Morrigan was even half as gifted as her mother led him to believe then he would be more than happy to have a Mage by his side. He had seen how strong and useful Mages can be, fighting side by side with them at the tower and this old woman was volunteering one to accompany him on this mission. "I would be more than happy to take you up on your offer."

She smiled, "Good, good. Come along then boy."

"Does Morrigan know about this?" He asked, but didn't get a response. In fact he swore that the woman was smiling, and not in a good way.

The two of them returned to the hut, and August saw right away that the sooner they left the better. The men were more than a little nervous being in such close proximity to a couple of Witches so obviously outside of Chantry control. Eyes were alert, mouths set in thin lines and hands were never far away from the hilts of their swords. Morrigan seemed uninterested in their discomfort, in fact she seemed more than happy to ignore them altogether.

"Ah mother," Morrigan began as they closed in. "Will we be saying goodbye once again to our guests? Shall I get dinner ready?"

"The Wardens will be leaving child, and you will be going along with them."

Needless to say that August's theory that Morrigan was unaware of her mother's plan was accurate. The look of shock on her face broke through her facade and the stuttering response solidified that fact. "Mother, you cannot be serious... I am not ready."

"I am always serious child, and if you aren't ready now you likely never will be." The older Witch countered neatly. "These Wardens are about to embark on a dangerous quest, and the Blight threatens every living thing in Ferelden and Thedas as a whole. They will need all the help they can get."

August frowned at the elder Witch, "While I would happily take Morrigan along I wouldn't take her against her will."

"Nonsense, the girl needs to see the outside world. This is my one request for my services, and I will have it."

"Very well, then I accept." August turned to the young Witch. "It would be an honour and a pleasure to have you accompany us. Gather what supplies you need for a long journey and return with us to Ostagar. Flemeth, you have my gratitude for not just protecting the treaties but also returning my brother to us. Know that your daughter will be a valued companion in the trials ahead."

"Ah so you do know manners, young Warden," Flemeth said with more than a little mirth, enjoying seeing him twitch. "I entrust you with that which I value above all else."

August nodded his head, then turned and left mother and daughter to say their goodbyes. The men waited, still alert and ready, loosely surrounding the cart which his brother slept. He called over the officer of the group, a middle aged Sergeant whose name he was just able to recall. "Sergeant Harkin. We'll be leaving in due course, get the men together."

"Thank the Maker," the man replied, relief washing over him. "Begging your pardon milord but the men are unnerved about the place, something of a foul air about it."

August didn't answer the man, but offered a nod in agreement as Morrigan entered the hut to pack her belongings. There was something wrong with this place, something which sizzled in the air, a creeping malice which placed a chill in his bones. The sooner he left this place and returned to Ostagar with his brother the better.

The trip from Flemeth's hut to the fortress was uneventful, no Darkspawn lay in wait for them on the route back and the further the men got the more relaxed they became, even with Morrigan amongst them. The Witch had been morose and sulking on the journey back, not saying more than a few words when August tried to speak to her. She didn't want to leave the Wilds or her Mother, and August understood to a point. To leave the only home you've ever known can be a terrifying and daunting feat.

As they entered the camp and marched through it word quickly spread of the Wardens return and the return of the Teyrn of Highever. By the time they were within the safety of their own camp it had spread across the rest of the army like wildfire.

Alistair was waiting for them outside of the tent, looking better rested and more agreeable than last night, but his mood seemed to sour when he saw Morrigan. The two of them glared hatefully at each other the moment their eyes met, and August sighed upon seeing it. The last thing he needed were his own allies tearing each other's throats out.

His fellow Warden had the good graces to wait until they had gotten Fergus into the tent and his men left. It was only him, Morrigan, Alistair and an unconscious Fergus by the time the inevitable argument broke out. "You can't seriously consider letting her come along do you!? She's an Apostate."

"Keep your voice down for Maker's sake," August snarled back, feeling another headache coming along. "It was a request by her mother, and I could not decline."

"By Andraste's nightgown why not?"

"Because they found and treated my brother," August shot back, feeling angry. "The last family I have left in this world and they brought him back to me. I owe her, and it was a matter of honour that I accept."

"B-but she's nasty, sarcastic... and she's half naked all the time!" Alistair was pulling at straws at this point, and everyone knew it.

"What's the matter little Chantry boy," Morrigan drawled, wicked mischief in her unnatural amber eyes. "Never seen a pair of tits before?"

"I-I've seen them, oh boy have I seen them." Alistair shot back, flushed.

"Enough," August growled. "Alistair, Grey Wardens take allies wherever they find them. Isn't that one of the principal mottos of the order. Morrigan and her mother want the Blight ended as much as anyone else, and have offered their services to that end. Would you deny a powerful Mage to our cause?"

"Well, no, but." Alistair looked like he wanted to protest, but upon seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere he folded his arms and huffed. "Alright fine."

"Good," August nodded, turning to Morrigan. "Will working with him be a problem."

"It will be testing, but I think I can manage this oaf." She replied, smirking upon seeing that her little jab hit home with how Alistair was sputtering. August sighed, his headache increasing.

"At least try to be civil with each other," August almost pleaded. "It will be a long journey, and the war to come longer still. We will be living and working together for some time to come."

Both grunted, but August knew that it was as close to an agreement as he will get. He wasn't going to put further pressure on them, but he had other more important things on his mind than a squabble. "Morrigan, would you be able to continue my brother's treatment."

"Tis not possible," Morrigan replied frankly. "My magic isn't focused around the arts of healing. Perhaps one of your pet Mages would be more appropriate."

He thought as much. It seemed that most of the healing had come from Flemeth instead of her daughter and what she had done hadn't been enough to fully heal his brother. So a trip to the Circle of Mages for help was needed. Perhaps if he found this Senior Enchanter Gwyneth had been speaking off.

"I will do just that." August replied as he got to his feet and walked to the exit. "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

There was no response and when he turned he saw Alistair and Morrigan glaring balefully at each other. August shook his head and exited the tent into the midmorning sun, finding and grabbing the arm of a passing by Sergeant Harkin. "Sergeant, gather some men. We're going to pay a visit to the Circle."

The man blinked and then nodded his head, "Yes Your Lordship."

Thanks to Just A Crazy-Man, Impstar, Jarjaxle, OMAC001, First-Shadow and Judy for leaving reviews for me.

I was always of the opinion that the Grey Wardens lit the signal pyre too late for Loghain's troops to make a difference. In fact I remember when I first played the game I looked around the courtyard to see if there was any shortcut to get to the top of the tower. I even saw a Ballista to the side and wandered if it worked. I looked around for rope and tried talking to a few guardsmen (No joke) but sadly it was just for decoration.

Now on to answering the questions. I will be attempting to add the other origins into the story. I should be able to add the others in as the story progresses, as well as the other members of the original party, which should be easy enough to do so long as I at least lightly follow the original formula. In some ways I've already started. I wanted Morrigan in the group, and Fergus being forgotten until the end of the game always kind of irked me.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and also to those who added this story onto your favourites and alerts lists. It really means a lot that people are finding this story interesting. Like always leave a review if you like it, questions and theories are good too.